Lying with Hands Turned Up
by Angel-Buffy17
Summary: A series of drabbles and one-shots centered around Buffy and Angel/us, exploring the meloncholy, the violent passion, and the love with the power to rip worlds apart.
1. 1 The World Without

**Title:** Lying with Hands Turned Up

**Author:** Roxy (Angel-Buffy17)

**Shipping:** Buffy/Angel(us)

**A/N:** Just getting back into the Buffy/Angel(us) groove after a long-ass school year. Summer equals more time for obsession and writing. Apologies for my absence, I'm getting back into the swing of things!

**A/N 2:** "Lying with Hands Turned Up" is drabble series, one-shots for now. They're all pieces I've been working on over the years that I just haven't come around to expanded, but wish to share.

**Series:** There will be a play on meloncholy, violent passion, and agonizing heartbreak for our favorite star-crossed lovers. But do not despair, for there will be a balance of happiness as well. I'd just like to see where I can take these characters and explore all the possibilities of meetings, interactions, and plot-changing twists. Join me for the ride!

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The World Without

The fight was starting to wear on her, she tried to deny it and pushed for a third wind. Months of loss and guilt-ridden nightmares had won their toll on her, exhaustion weighed down like a thunder of rain. Beating, beating down.

Angelus whipped Akathla's sword around fluidly, the blade slicing the air like butter. A round of strikes and the Master Vampire could feel the excitement of battle course through him, a rush he hadn't experienced since his days as a fledgling. His Slayer countered every blow he dealt, giving as much as receiving.

_The sheer passion in this girl_, Angelus thought in almost awe. He shoved her into the porcelain bust, _exquisite_.

He could still sense her, much to his disgust. Her strength was weaning and the poor girl was desperate. Disarming her, Buffy resorted to physical blows. She struck her ex-lover with a force that punished, a hatred that directed inward, its vibrations shooting out.

He laughed gleefully and she was sickened. A particularly hard punch to the jaw effectively shut him up.

Aside from the clash of steel and the harsh grunts of exertion, the battle waged on in silence. Everything that needed to be said had been spoken. No threats were left that hadn't been carried out, all taunts now rang hollow in the midst of the finale.

This was raw and they both felt it. Nothing left, nobody around to impress or appease. Every drop of worldly hatred and frustration drove every single shot.

He sliced and she bled. She plunged and he bruised. Back and forth, round and round.

Grasping her shoulders, his sharp talons dug past her thin sweater and into her skin. He growled as the scent of her bled perfumed the air, urging him to just end this little dance they'd caught themselves in.

Buffy flung her head back, contacting his nose with an audible crunch. She escaped his razor hands and took a couple steps back to regain her ground.

He had that same look in his eyes as that night they'd kissed in the school's band room, body snatched by past lovers. Inexplicable rage.

She hadn't thought he could hate her anymore that night. He roared, the high windows shook. As he charged toward her, a batting ram with the power of a canon, she realized she'd been wrong.

He crashed into her, knocking them both to the ground and skidding them toward Akathla. Buffy struggled to catch her breath as she grappled for dominance. Angelus managed to get several blows in before she landed a few of her own.

Meanwhile, Akathla shook, dropped his stoney jaw for the first time in centuries, and breathed. A swirling vortex of black and fiery orange intruded the air and grew. Bolts of energy crackled from all directions, threatening to incinerate the very universe into charcoal. A voracious vacuum sucked everything in the garden into the gnawing mouth of Akathla.

The two ex-lovers were non the wiser, too caught up in their own need to play the cards fate has dealt them and finish a scene that should never have been carried out.

Beneath Angelus, Buffy thrust her body skyward, trying to throw the heavier weight of the vampire off. Aware of her intentions, Angelus tightened his hold on her wrists, listening to the tiny bones creaking. "Ah...ah. Ah, baby," the handsome vampire smiled a toothy grin. "I believe we've done that move before." He slowly leaned over his captive.

They both thought the same thing. Soon, it would be over.

A flash of bleeding crimson light. Blinded and stunned, they were swallowed whole.

Buffy was panicking. Red sky. Barren ground, black like sin.

Akathla, she thought. I'm in hell. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Angelus was disoriented at first then regained his bearings. He is pissed. This wasn't supposed to happen. Fuck!

Looking over at Buffy, he is pleased to find she is freaking out and clawing to stay calm. He takes some satisfaction that she is here too. If he was going to suffer through hell, she was being dragged along with him. Bitch deserves that and more. "Well, isn't this nice." He extends an arm toward the wasteland before them. "It's the honeymoon we never had."

Still reeling from the absolute shock of her predicament, Buffy had yet to notice that she wasn't alone. She twisted around, taking in everything, looking for a possible way to escape. Seeing nothing but open space, she focused on slowing down her heavy breathing, the stale heat was making her dizzy.

Turning an ashen face toward the voice, the Slayer looked at her unfortunate companion. He looked downright giddy, the fact that they were in freaking HELL did nothing to wipe that stupid grin off his face. She was overcome with the temptation to rip his face off. Her mouth set in a grim line. "Fuck you."

His quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, such language owns the lady." He placed a hand over his still heart. " I know it's not the Caribbeans, but give a demon a break for imagination."

Buffy crossed her arms. "So getting yourself sucked into hell was all part of a master plan?" she snorted.

"Not exactly," he replied conversationally. "There are some key components missing. Hoard of obedient dezins, a crown, maybe even a sparkly throne, so there are somethings to be desired. But, not all hope is lost, Alghieri," the Master Vampire stepped forward, "You're here, aren't you?"

How did he do that? Buffy fumed. How was he able to distort anything that would sound endearing in any other context into something sick.

The Slayer decided not to reply, truthfully because there was nothing she could say. He was right, she grudgingly realized. Although she did save the world, she could not save herself.

A gust of sadness pierced heart as she tried not to think about the journey in store for her. This was hell, it didn't get any worse than this. She chanced a glance at Angelus, noting the hungry look in his eyes.

Wrong again, it did.

Steeling her resolve, Buffy trudged forth, she didn't have any sense of direction but she had to start somewhere. No one was going to swoop in and save her, she had her self and that was enough. It had to be.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Buffy kept walking, looking down at her own footsteps. Before long, another pair of legs joined her. She shifted the other way and still the bastard followed, relentless. She gradually picked up the pace, breaking into a run. After what felt like hours, Buffy stopped. Looking around, it was the same scenery. She was running in a desert without any point of reference to go with.

She turned sharply, only to come into direct contact with a hard, male chest. She hadn't realized just how close Angelus was on her heel. "You're following me," she managed between pants.

Angelus smirked. "I am."

She placed her hands on her hips. "Why?"

"Why not?"

Buffy sputtered, helplessly. "Wh-...what? Are you fucking _crazy_?"

The vampire's eyes darkened. "No."

"No? You don't think you are in the least bit demented?" Buffy shook her head. "Well, let's sum it up for all the folks at home, huh? You're a homicidal psycho who's played countless psychological games with me for months. But toying with Buffy and killing her friends isn't enough, no, destroying the world has much more promising prospects. Shit went down and now you are stuck here in a hell of your own making, pun fiercely intended.

'Jolly gee, now what?' Mr. Hyde contemplates, never really thought this through. Look, Buff's here, let's play Follow the Pissed Off Slayer, who, if he didn't get the hint the first dozen times, hate's your damned existence! Now you wanna try to tell me that you _shouldn't_ be locked up in a sponge room in Alcatraz?"

Angelus couldn't help it, he laughed and there was wasn't a note of menace. "Such fire in you, babe."

The look on Buffy's face was almost comical, the bipolar vampire was seriously starting to freak her out. She splayed her arms. "Guess I'm in the right place then."

Without waiting for a response, she took up her earlier path.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

TBC

R&R :)


	2. 2 Chess Pieces

**Title:Chess Pieces**

**Author: Roxy**

**Ship: Buffy/Angelus**

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"You killed them."

"Who is it this time?"

"I told you to leave them be. They were innocent humans."

"No such animal." He turned the page of the ancient manuscript he'd been going through, mindful of its fragility and value. "Do you have selective memory, Buff? She called you a whore." He shrugged carelessly. "It was disrespectful."

"To me or you?" She retorted, not even trying to conceal the oozing sarcasm.

"You don't really care. It's just reflex talking now, darling."

"She was my aunt. My last living relative."

"Well, now she's a generous donation to the city's sewer system. She wanted to be foul, now she is. "

Buffy scoffed at his sick rendition of justice. "And her husband and son, what of them?"

"Guilty by association."

She gritted her teeth until she swore her jaw would shatter."She didn't deserve to die."

"Neither did she deserve to live." He slowly glanced up for the first time. "A well adjusted person would have been grateful, you know."

She mimicked him childishly, helpless in doing anything else. "A well adjusted person wouldn't have turned a dinner party into Gettysburg."

"What can I say, I'm twisted."

"Well, no thanks, Angelus."

He sighed mournfully. "Just when you think the credits are about to roll..."

"You are so very good at a game that I don't wish to play."

He laced slender fingers across his abdomen, undeterred. "Even the pawn that chose inactivity was not spared. It's your move, babe."

"I'm out."

His lips split into a toothy grin."Checkmate."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

R&R :)


	3. 3 Palette of Greys

**A Palette of Grays**

I loved him like a car crash.

One of those horrible, twisting ones. The worst kind, where you would bet your heart and soul no one would survive. Go up in flames and incinerate any would be remains. The one where things slow down, yet don't stop.

You couldn't tear your eyes away, even though you knew… you _knew_ the collision was coming.

It always did.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

He was walking toward me, weaving through the throng of guests, champagne in hand. A smile gracing his face. I'd moved several rooms away yet he managed to find me.

I wanted to run. Escape. Die. I wanted to crash through any of the five exits I'd counted on the way in.

"Thank you for coming." He was polite.

I nodded, helpless to do anything else. Averting his eyes, I looked at the Fuseli on the wall. It was a choice pick and I found myself both impressed and surprised at this piece. _The Nightmare._ A tragic painting, beautiful yes, but so abrupt and out of place among the other bright garden drawings in the room. It reminded me of a mosquito in a room of butterflies.

He offered me a glass and I shook my head. He looked disappointed for a moment but shrugged, placing the glass on the tray of the closest server.

We were quiet for some time. I've never really understood how silence could be deafening, but at that moment I couldn't have described it any better.

I didn't want to talk and I hoped to whatever gods were out there that he didn't either.

I counted the seconds that quickly turned into minutes. I liked counting, it was a nice distraction and gave me a pretense of order in this world.

"You look nice, Buffy." He rocked on his heels a bit, shoving his hands into his black dress pants. He chuckled nervously, "To be honest, I didn't think you were going to come."

"You didn't think I was going to come or you were hoping I wouldn't?"

He sighed, in that loud, drawn-out way my mother would do whenever she felt I was being childish. "Buffy—"

"Angel, stop. This is Nina's opening exhibit. Big day. I get it." I ran a hand through my long hair, chestnut brown now. "We both know I don't want to be here. I shouldn't have come."

His face was expressionless. "Then why did you?"

"You invited me."

He tilted his head to the side and I remembered that look meant he saw through my bullshit.

I shrugged, hoping it looked casual. "New York City is lovely this time of year."

"Buffy…"

I studied his face. Bronzed from the sun now. Older, in a good way. Specks of gray on the side of his hair. "We're strangers now." I smiled and by the look on his face I knew how grotesque it must have looked. "Don't pretend to know me."

His lips quirked into a half smile. "I do know you."

I scoffed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he whispered. He leaned in to touch my cheek but I stepped back. "I need to go."

He was angry at my quick dismissal. He stared at me for a good minute. I could he wanted to slap me, or I maybe I just wanted him to.

He nodded curtly.

I swallowed and it felt like lead. "Good bye, Angel. I..." I love you. I miss you. I need you. "I won't see you again."

I made to move passed him and he grabbed my wrist. His hand was hot against mine, it would've warmed me had I not felt his wedding band as a cold reminder. My head was bent, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to stop my body from shaking.

He leaned the side of his face gently against mine. I could feel the coarse hair of his unshaven cheek. He inhaled deeply and quickly kissed my cheek. "Happy Birthday, Buffy," he whispered and let go just like that.

I didn't wait to allow myself to do something I might have regret, moving toward the double doors as quickly as possible.

I knew things were finally different now. In all of our many partings, we've never allowed ourselves to say goodbye before.

This was it.

I was relieved, drowning without hope of rescue. Exactly what I came here for.

I was truly dead.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

R&R :)

Depressing, yes. But so was my mood.


	4. 4 WWWIWWF Part 1- Morning Brew

Story: Where We Go is Where We're From

Part 1: Morning Brew

Ship: B/Aus

XxXxXxXxXxX

He stopped by "The Harvest", an old hole-in-the-wall diner, every morning at 8:15 AM sharp. An Italian leather briefcase clutched in one hand, the other holding a thick stack of papers in front of him. He was one of five people who frequented the old establishment, two of which being the line-cook, Frank, and Gladys, the friendly old waitress.

This morning the door chime tinkled a quarter to 9 and a very angry Angelus stormed in, a cell phone firmly held to his ear. He didn't take his usual seat at the corner booth, but strode up to the island and sat at one of the empty cushioned stools. "I don't give a flying fuck what she counter-sues with, Lindsey. This shit better be wrapped up before lunch or your next job will be serving soup in the Ukraine." He flipped his phone shut and irritably rubbed his throbbing temples, muttering, "Christ."

"H- hi, may I get you anything?"

The voice was soft and hesitant, so unlike the shouting match he'd had to endure for the past two hours. Angelus looked up at the timid blonde, offering a half smile in apology. "Coffee, please. Black." He searched for her nametag and was slightly dismayed to not find one. She must be new, Angelus thought, knowing he would have remembered her.

She nodded and turned back toward the kitchen to retrieve his drink.

Angelus watched her go, admiring the graceful way she moved. His phone vibrated and Angelus groaned, glancing at the Caller ID. "Jesus Fucking Christ."

The waitress returned with a large coffee mug, placing it before Angelus. She poured his hot drink in silence, only an eyebrow raised at the litany of obscenities that flowed from the handsome man's perfectly sensuous lips.

"Quite a mouth you got there."

Angelus' head snapped up. "What?"

The blonde's smile widened. "Were you a sailor in a past life?"

His frown vanished as he realized she was being playful. He smirked, shaking his head. "Don't think I could pull off the eye-patch and scurvy too well."

Setting the coffee pot under an oven mitt, she curled a few stray hairs around her ear. "Well, it'd explain why you're so grumpy all the time. Probably couldn't catch anything bigger than an anchovy."

Angelus took a sip from his coffee and did his best not to grimace, swallowing the burnt grounds politely. He set the cup down, a half smile on his face. "And how would you know if I'm grumpy all the time? Maybe I had an off morning. Fish could've died, lost my favorite shamrock socks, or served a parking ticket? "

The cute waitres tapped her short nails against the counter thoughtfully. After a beat, "No, you're definitely one of those 24/7 grumps."

"Yeah?"The dark, handsome patron smiled. "Do you moonlight as a 1-800 Miss Cleo?"

Slowly shaking her head, her voice dropped a few octaves. "I can let you in on a secret though."

She leaned in and he could smell the light spice of vanilla perfume. He followed suit, feeling his heartbeat speed up at the close proximity.

She opened her bow-shaped mouth, only to be abruptly cut off.

"Buffy, where the fuck are you?! Get your scrawny ass back here, we're slammed with orders!"

The couple glanced around at the empty diner.

Angelus watched as thepretty waitress, Buffy now learned, muttered something under her breath and visibly steeled herself. She shrugged a thin shoulder at him, smiling weakly, then walked through the double doors to the kitchen.

He watched the doors flap back and forth listening to angry sounds of a hushed argument, a pensive look on his handsome face. His phone vibrated, looking at the long text message written in all CAPS, Angelus bit his tongue to keep from cursing. He left the cup of coffee on the counter, now cold, and placed a twenty dollar bill under the saucer.

Walking out, he wondered what the secret was for the rest of the day.

XxXxXxXxX

R&R Please :)


End file.
